


Is This Seat Taken?

by XxTheDarkLordxX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Counselor Draco, Fluff, Giveaway fic, Glimpses into the Future, Harry is So Done, Idiots in Love, Limited Angst, Love, M/M, Memories, Post-Hogwarts, Simple choice, Sort Of, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Voyeurism, changes everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTheDarkLordxX/pseuds/XxTheDarkLordxX
Summary: Missed connections are something that happens when strangers have a chance meeting that could change their whole lives. But why is it that no one talks about the missed connections between those you know?A spell sends Harry on a wild ride as he tries to figure out why his future suddenly has Malfoy in it.





	Is This Seat Taken?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rmh8402](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmh8402/gifts).



> I recently did a giveaway on my Tumblr. The first place prize was a 3k word oneshot dedicated to the winner. As you can see, this is longer than that. *snorts* I have a problem with limiting myself. Ren, I hope you love this. 
> 
> I would like to say thank you to @rieraclaelin for keeping me sane. There were a few times that I was just frustrated. I would have normally talked to both Jess and Ren, but Ren wasn't allowed to know anything about the story. I would also like to thank @phd-mama for being my beta. Thank you! 
> 
> |Warning| I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. All rights to the characters are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. The only thing is mine is the way I spin the story. It is for entertainment only and not part of the official storyline.

                         

* * *

 

                Harry walked down the corridor, unsure of why he had even bothered to come to the yearly remembrance ball the Ministry oversaw. What should have been about the lives lost during the war was really only about donations, and who held the bigger pockets. The only reason he did show up was to ensure that there weren’t false charities aiming to swindle people out of donating their life savings away.

                Frustration at the entire situation had Harry wishing he had stayed in bed with his warm joggers and no dress code in sight. Fancy robes, ties that clashed, and pretentious attitudes would always cause his ire to flare.

                Harry had been accosted by several drunk guests—men and women—in their bid to get him to dance. The only reason he had managed to escape was Luna loudly proclaiming to have found the proof of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack inside the Minister’s overcoat. She truly was a wonderful friend.

                Frustrated with numerous people constantly vying for his attention, Harry stormed towards an alcove he knew people overlook, when a rustling had him coming to a standstill. A flash of blond hair had him groaning internally.

                Malfoy was in Harry’s spot. Sure, it wasn’t _claimed_ , but this was where Harry always went to hide, and he didn’t appreciate that it had been stolen. Indecision had him biting his lip as he thought over his options. He could move on and find somewhere else to sit… or he could ask if Malfoy minded the company.

                Sitting next to Malfoy would be a toss-up as to whether that would be his low point to the night. Sure, Malfoy had undergone several personality changes in the five years since leaving Hogwarts. Malfoy not only paid restitution for war damages—willingly—but he also had changed the way prisoners were released by becoming a counselor for reformed prisoners on their way out of Azkaban. Malfoy helped the prisoners learn how to move past their imprisonment and helped them learn many ways they could help society in productive ways.

                Despite Malfoy’s efforts, Harry still had a hard time talking to him. It wasn’t old grudges or even hate that kept him distanced from Malfoy, but rather an inability to remain pleasant. Malfoy was always someone who knew exactly what to say to get under Harry’s skin—something that hadn’t changed over the years. They still bickered when forced to talk—which Harry normally wouldn’t mind—but with the way his night had progressed, Harry wasn’t in the mood to argue.

                Harry took a step back, deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble. As he turned around to go _hopefully_ unnoticed, a rush of energy surrounded him. The magic was familiar in a way that Harry knew the origins should be obvious, but they eluded him. He blinked rapidly, unsure of what was happening.

                His mouth dropped open in surprise when the magic entered his body, the power of the energy nearly bringing him to his knees. Harry tried to withdraw his wand—hoping to form some kind of shield to protect against the intrusion—but before his fingers could move, his mind blanked completely, shattering all of his recently acquired Occlumency skills.

                With a last fleeting thought of being utterly screwed, Harry’s consciousness slipped away.

 

* * *

 

                A blinding flash of white light around Harry had pain throbbing behind his eyes. He looked around in confusion, noticing that he was no longer in the corridor. Malfoy was gone, and it would seem everyone else as well.

                Harry looked around curiously. He was standing in someone’s front yard, where stones and beautiful flowers created a trail that led to a front porch. He startled when he caught sight of an older man rocking back and forth in a rocking chair. It was hard to see the man’s face clearly as it was shrouded under the shade of the porch.  
  
               “Excuse me?” Harry called, hand raised in a greeting. “Can you tell me where we are?”

                When the man showed no signs of having heard him, Harry began to grow uneasy. “Hello?” Nothing. No movement that varied from before, no rustling, and no flickering of eyes.

                Déjà vu struck Harry as he took a few steps forward. This was reminding him of the few times he had been inside a memory. Was the magic that invaded him somehow a memory?

                Harry looked around, hoping to see landmarks that might help him locate just where they were, but there was nothing. Appearances would suggest that they were the only house in sight.

                “You lazy sod!” A voice called from the side of the house as the pitter-patter of feet could be heard.

                Harry froze as he recognized the voice. _“Malfoy?”_

                When Malfoy came around the corner, arms full of vegetables and a fond expression on his face, Harry openly gaped. Grey hair interwoven with the white blond showed Malfoy’s age. Laugh lines that Harry _knew_ hadn’t been there just a few moments ago in the Ministry were prominent and made Malfoy look… softer. Harry wasn’t sure how old Malfoy was, but he had to be well into his fifties.

                What was going on? How could this be a memory but also be the future? And _why_ would Harry be viewing Malfoy’s future?

                “I don’t see why I have to be the one to do all the hard work. It’s your bloody garden after all. Honestly, one would think I have to do everything around here.”

                The man in the rocking chair smiled but said nothing.

                “You are lucky I love you,” Malfoy growled, eyes twinkling playfully. “Merlin knows I’d have to, to put up with you for thirty years.”

                Thirty years? Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. On the one hand, it was fascinating to see proof that Malfoy knew how to be soft and kind, but on the other, he still wasn’t sure _why_ he was seeing it to begin with.

                Malfoy passed the rocking chair, pausing briefly to kiss the man on top of his head.

                Before Harry could take a step forward to try and see if figuring out who the man was would help anything, the old man pulled out a wand.

                “Wait,” Harry whispered, eyes glued to the wand. “That’s—”

                The same magic that had sent Harry here shot out of the wand and went directly towards the old man sitting in the rocking chair.

                “—my wand.”

                Harry blinked rapidly as the white light once again engulfed him. The front yard fading away into another scene.

 

* * *

 

                With the pain of the stark change fading away, Harry realized that he was seeing another glimpse into the future.

                His mind was attempting to focus on the present, but he was still trying to understand the last memory. That had been his wand—Harry would recognize it anywhere. Did that mean the old man was him? Had he been _married_ to Malfoy?

                The sound of a door opening had Harry’s head snapping up before his eyes widened in recognition.

                Yes, it was him.

               Harry could see his own scar reflected in an older man standing by a window as Malfoy entered the room. How was it fair that Malfoy aged well, but his older self genuinely looked wrinkly? A quick glance showed that they were in a kitchen, it was moderate in size and filled with muggle appliances.

                “What time is Teddy arriving?” Malfoy asked, hands coming to wrap around this future Harry’s waist. “The house is too quiet.”

                “Please.” The reply was harsh in its amusement. “You only like noise when it suits you.”

                “I genuinely don’t like you,” Malfoy snarked, hands tightening.

                Harry watched the two bicker in confusion.  How had they ever fallen in love? Was this truly the future?

                “You love me,” his future self whispered, teasing gone and a peaceful happiness taking root.

                Harry bit his lip, surprised that he could sound that happy. Since before and even after the war, life had just been a road going nowhere. Pit-stops were distractions and never offering directions. There had been too many nights where he had wondered if he was destined only for curves in the path that would one day lead to a dead end. Seeing this, seeing himself happy was strange.

                But Malfoy? What could possibly have led to this? Was Malfoy the center of Harry’s happiness? Whatever the cause, Harry felt that somehow this strangeness was right.

                When Malfoy responded, voice soft and a smile curving his lips, Harry wasn’t sure what was real anymore. “Unfortunately.”

                Harry snorted along with his older self as he watched Malfoy drop his hands and sidestep a well-aimed kick.

                Laughter filled the kitchen, seeping into more than just the air. Harry couldn’t help but grin at the way Malfoy ran, desperately trying to escape tickling fingers. They were old, far older than he thought they should be when it came to running and playing—but it was surprisingly endearing. 

                They were endearing, and that scared Harry.

 

* * *

 

 

                White light faded in a way that was becoming familiar. Harry squinted, trying to figure out why it was so dark. A glance around the room showed he was now in a bedroom during the middle of the night.

                A loud snore startled Harry. He looked towards the bed and winced when he realized it was future him who was snoring. That was a trait Harry hadn’t realized he even had. Malfoy wasn’t in the bed, which might explain why future Harry was sprawled out, taking up the whole thing with his legs spread wide, arms flung outward. His mouth was wide open, and he was drooling directly onto the bed, not even a pillow as those were on the floor—probably from restless shifting. There was no way another person could comfortably fit in beside him.

                “I look ridiculous,” mumbled Harry, not understanding how _this_ had landed him into a relationship.

                A creak could be heard before the door opened and light filtered in. Harry watched Malfoy walk towards the bed, stress causing the few wrinkles on his face to make him appear older. It was hard to tell, but this version of Malfoy was younger than the last—a decade at least.     

                When Malfoy got to the edge of the bed, the stress melted into genuine happiness. Harry’s heart skipped a beat when Malfoy regarded him so delicately. How could someone see the pure disaster on the bed and then look so grateful? Delusion. Malfoy must be delusional.

                As Malfoy took off his robes, Harry immediately averted his eyes. Malfoy might be his future partner or _something_ \--all of the time traveling was making Harry’s head hurt--but that didn’t mean it was okay to ogle someone that wasn’t his currently.

                A fond chuckle let Harry know it was safe to look again. Malfoy was picking up the pillows off the floor with a shake of his head. There was a pause as Malfoy pursed his lips, eyes narrowed intently on the pillow in his hand.

                Before Harry could begin to guess what Malfoy was thinking, he watched in bewilderment as Malfoy smacked his future self over the head with it.

                “Oi, Potter! Move over.”

                It took a few more hits before Harry could see that it was working. Malfoy managed to push his way onto the bed as he smirked at Harry’s half-awake state.

                “Did everything go alright?” Even to his own ears, it was clear that his future self wasn’t going to remember this conversation come morning light. The words were slurred with sleep.

                Malfoy smiled as he pulled future Harry into his arms, fingers running through thinning strands of his hair. “One of the new councilors panicked. It was a false alarm.”

                “That’s good.” A loud snore at the end of the sentence had Harry covering his face. Merlin, this was embarrassing.

                A wicked smirk lit up Malfoy’s face, and Harry knew enough about the prat to know that that was never a good sign.

                “Mhm,” Malfoy hummed. “The Auror trainee that was patrolling Azkaban was excited to see me. Apparently being the husband of _the_ Harry Potter was too much for her.”

                “That’s—” Another loud snore had Harry sighing heavily. “—good.”

                “She was so flustered that I wouldn’t be surprised if she asks me to run away with her,” teased Malfoy, smirk widening when his future self nodded once.

                “You do that.” It was mumbled and hard to catch. “Love you.”

                Malfoy’s arms tightened. “I love you too, you ridiculous sap.”

                Harry peeked through his fingers, heart stuttering at the adoration in Malfoy’s eyes. Oh, God. He was fucked, utterly fucked.

                When the blinding light began to materialize, Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes from closing as he fought the memory, wanting to witness more of this—wanting to see this kind of emotion on Malfoy.

                The knowledge that another memory was coming wasn’t comforting, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to wish that it was over.

* * *

 

                “I get to hold her first.”

                Harry blinked rapidly, trying to understand where he was as the white light faded.

                “Fuck you,” Malfoy argued with a palpable grin in his voice. “I get to hold her first.”

                The walls of the room looked similar to the rooms he remembered from the few times he had been in St. Mungos. He ignored the normal bickering in favor of looking around. A sign on the door showed that they _were_ in St. Mungos, but out in the general waiting area.

                “You’re just jealous that I’m his favorite.” Malfoy raised his chin in the air haughtily.

                Harry could tell that in this memory, they were probably in their early forties, not too far off from the last memory.

                Before his future self could respond, the door to the room slammed open. Harry released a shaky breath at the sight of Teddy. His godson was in his early twenties, hair changing rapidly in numerous colors.

                But what had Harry’s attention was a newborn baby in his arms.

                “Are you two _ever_ going to let that argument go? I was seven when I declared Draco my favorite. And that’s only because he let me stay up after you went to sleep.” Teddy grinned, hair settling on half black, half blond.

                “I knew it,” his future self whispered, but his eyes were on the baby. “She’s beautiful.”

                His future self shot a hand out to shove at Malfoy’s arm to emphasize the statement.

                Teddy laughed a little hysterically. “I can’t believe she’s part of me. I’m a father.”

                “We’re grandparents.” Another shove to Malfoy’s shoulder.

                Malfoy glared darkly. “Hit me one more time, Potter, and I’ll hex you.”

                “Do you want to hold her?” Teddy asked, interrupting them.

                They both nodded quickly, stepping up in an attempt to be the first one.

                “Merlin, you both are children,” chided Teddy as he placed the baby in Malfoy’s arms.

                When arms wound around Malfoy’s waist, Harry had to look away. It was strange to see himself so in love with Malfoy. 

                “Do you think she’ll be a Metamorphmagus?”

                “I hope so.” The emotion in Teddy’s voice had Harry looking at his godson curiously, grateful for the distraction. “It’s a connection to Tonks. I know—” Teddy’s voice cracked. “You guys are the best parents I could’ve asked for, and I love you both _so_ much, but—I just—”

                “Hey,” his future self soothed, hands dropping from Malfoy before he walked to Teddy and pulled him into a hug. “I get it, we get it.”

                “Thank you.” The gratitude was muffled into a shoulder, but Harry could hear it anyway. “Thank you for everything.”

                  Malfoy walked forward, eyes misty. “We love you.”

                Harry had to turn his back when the three of them began a group hug. This was something private. Despite this being his future, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding. This wasn’t his current time, this wasn’t who he was. Not now, not yet, and maybe not ever.

                Relief coursed through Harry when he became engulfed into white light once more.

* * *

 

                “Draco!”

                Harry shook his head rapidly when he recognized his own voice moaning. Oh, Merlin. What kind of shite was this? He didn’t _want_ to think about shagging Draco bloody Malfoy.

                “You like that, Harry?”

                The breathy whisper had Harry closing his eyes tightly. No, he did _not_ like it.

                A loud moan shattered the silence, disagreeing with Harry’s denial. He didn’t get rid of Voldemort to have this kind of karma. It wasn’t fair.

                “ _Yes!_ Harder, please.” When a deep groan escaped, Harry opened one eye. Malfoy couldn’t be _that_ good, could he?

                The sight of himself bent over an ottoman, fingers gripping the material tightly, magic crackling around the room and his mouth open in a silent scream had him wanting to fan his face. _Merlin._

Harry looked up towards Malfoy and a slight groan left his mouth. Fuck. Malfoy’s hair was longer here than before. Silky strands falling over his future self’s shoulder as Malfoy pressed his chest against Harry’s back.

                The sounds of their bodies meeting each other was obscene, and yet Harry couldn’t look away. Was it voyeurism if he was watching himself? Was that allowed?

                “Fuck,” Harry whispered when he caught sight of Malfoy’s cock sliding in and out of his arse. “I will not jerk off to this. This will not be something I remember.” The mantra was repeated over and over as he watched the two have sex.

                When Malfoy whimpered, Harry couldn’t help but parrot it back. He was already fully aroused, but there was no way in hell he was going to do anything about it. He had manners, damnit, and anyway, Harry was sure there had to be some kind of rule against getting off while trapped inside of a memory. It didn’t matter how hot Malfoy was, no hands were going near his cock. His aching— _no—_ Harry took a deep breath before turning around.

                Couldn’t they hurry up? Weren’t they old enough that it shouldn’t take long?

                “Touch yourself.” The panted demand from Malfoy jolted Harry. He had to fight hard to ignore that completely. A keening cry let him know that his future self had no trouble listening to Malfoy.

                “I love you,” Malfoy whispered, and the sound those words caused his future self to make had Harry clenching his fists. Of fucking _course_ that’s what would cause them to come. Love. How sappy were they? He refused to let the sentiment melt his heart. It wasn’t working.

                Harry waited until the sounds of rustling could be heard, letting him know they were at least arranged on the bed. When he looked up, his heart palpitated. The love during sex was nothing compared to the love they held for each other now. Malfoy’s cheeks were bracketed in a loving touch, something that Harry had to close his eyes to avoid.

                What was the point? Why was he seeing this? Harry had a future with Malfoy, that much was clear. But why was he reliving these future memories? If it were to happen on its own, why was this necessary?

                Harry waited impatiently for the light to come and the memory to fade as his mind whirled through dozens of theories.

* * *

 

                The first thing Harry saw was the interior of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. He looked around with great interest, seeing many new and unfamiliar pranks.

                “I need your help.”

                The sound of his own voice caused Harry to tear his eyes away from a disturbing sex toy. It looked like a small button, but the image printed on the box showed it elongating well past painful. What was that doing in the shop? Had George expanded into other territories?

                No customers were in sight, which would probably explain why Ron was sitting on the counter. “Did you piss off Draco? Because I can’t help you there. The last time I tried to help you, he sent me a cursed cake. I almost ate it.”

                Harry rolled his eyes as he tried to figure out how old he was here. Younger than the last memory by at least a few years. Maybe late twenties? Still early thirties?

                “No, it’s our tenth anniversary and I don’t know what to get him.”

                Harry sighed heavily, trying to curb the urge to pull his hair out. He got it, they were in love. Sickeningly in love.

                “Sex,” George yelled from _somewhere_ in the store. “That’s always a good fallback.”

                No. Harry couldn’t handle another sex memory. Once was enough. Another might crush his resolve completely.

                “Sex is a given.” The retort had Ron’s face twisting in disgust. “But I actually want to do something nice too.”

                “Some couples reenact their first meeting,” Ron said in amusement, arms folded across his chest.

                “That’s not a good idea,” Both Harry and his older self said in unison. Harry remembered the first time they met in Diagon Alley, it wasn’t the worst first meeting, but it didn’t spark any positive emotions either.

                “What about your first date?” George offered, coming out of his office. “That’s romantic.”

                “That’s not going to work.” Harry could tell by the sly smile on his face that there was an interesting story there. He wondered what had happened on their first date.

                “You know,” Ron began, waving at a customer walking in the door. “You never did explain what made you want to go for Malfoy in the first place.”

                _That_ was something Harry was rather interested in himself.

                “An almost missed connection.”

                “That is utterly useless,” George complained.

                Harry nodded his head in agreement. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

                “You could always renew your bonding ceremony,” Ron said, fingers on his chin in thought. “Not something usually done with wizards, but the sentiment is nice.”

                “Nah, that won’t—wait.” It was almost comical to see the epiphany brewing in his own eyes. “You are a genius. I can’t do that, but I can—” A freeing laugh left his mouth before he ran for the door.

                “Wait!” Ron yelled loudly, startling the customer. “You didn’t explain anything.”

                “I’m running away!” His future self called over his shoulder, smile bright and eyes sparkling.

                “Well that’s an awful anniversary gift,” George whispered, confusion evident.

                Harry was just as confused as they were when the memory began to fade. That couldn’t be it, could it? Nothing was explained.

                It seemed he was always left with more questions than answers.

* * *

 

                “You’re mad!”

                Harry had to shield his eyes from the sun to be able to see anything. He recognized the lawn they were on from the first memory.

                “Maybe.” Malfoy laughed joyously, eyes lit in a way that took Harry’s breath away. “But I think we should do it.”

                “Elope. You want us to forget about the months we have spent planning our wedding. Months.”

                _Oh_. Is that why he had said they were running away in the last memory? Had they really eloped? And their family didn’t know about it?

                “Not exactly,” Malfoy hedged, hands reaching out to grab hold of Harry’s hands. “Everything is so hectic lately. It feels less about us and more about the wedding. I want something just for us. I want to be able to run away with you.”

                Despite the anger previously in his tone, Harry watched his future self pull Malfoy closer. “What about everyone else? It’s not fair to Molly or your mother if we elope. They have been helping too.”

                “Which is why we’ll still do the wedding.” Malfoy ran his fingers along Harry’s cheekbones. “Just after we elope. No one has to know. It will be our secret.”

                He watched the way his future self’s eyes narrowed intently. “You really want to do this.”

                “Only if you want to as well.”

                There was a moment where they stared at each other, words non-existent.

                “Alright. Let’s elope.”

                The grin that lit up Malfoy’s features was clearly worth it. Harry could see the effect it had on himself.

                He watched Malfoy launch forward, legs wrapping around his waist and fingers holding firmly to Harry’s shoulders.

                When his future self twirled them around, his laughter joining with Malfoy’s, he knew that there would never be a moment where they weren’t sappy. It was inevitable.

                They were inevitable.

 

* * *

 

 

                The sound of glass breaking had an ominous feeling taking presence in this pit of his stomach. Harry quickly looked around the moment the light faded.

                Malfoy was clutching broken shards of a vase to his chest, eyes downcast and lips tugged downward in a frown.

                The sound of feet thundering had Malfoy tensing. Harry looked around, relieved to see himself run into the room.

                “Draco are you—”

                “What do you want?” It sounded so defeated, so broken. Harry wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it had somehow been his fault. He glared at this future self, silently demanding he fix this. Malfoy looked a breath away from crying. Harry had already seen what looked like, he didn’t need a repeat performance.

                “I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just—”

                Malfoy laughed hollowly, interrupting whatever excuse had been about to be given.  “You just don’t want to marry me.”

                Harry blinked rapidly, trying to figure out if he had been sent to an alternate universe. Were these the same happy people from the last memory?

                “I never said that.” Frustration bled through, hands running through messy hair. “I just know that it’s not something you want—”

                “What?” Malfoy lifted his head up, eyes wet. “What are you on about? Why wouldn’t I want to marry you? I’ve been with you for five years, Harry. Five years isn’t a fling. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t in it for the long haul.”

                Confusion marred both their features when his older self gaped. “But you said that you didn’t think you’d ever get married.”

                Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, before we started dating. Honestly, Potter. How is that you can remember an obscure conversation many years ago, but you can’t remember to pick up your towel off the floor?”

                “The towel doesn’t mean anything to me.”

                Malfoy looked up through his lashes. “Yeah?” It was breathless and hopeful. “And I do?”

                “You mean _everything_ to me. You _know_ you do.” Quick hands pulled the shards of glass out of Malfoy’s hands and pulled him into a hug. “I want to marry you someday. Maybe someday soon--tomorrow, next week, a year from now--whenever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just wasn’t sure you wanted that.”

                “It’s not my fault you were always so thick,” Malfoy teased, head nuzzling Harry’s neck. “I want that too, Harry.”

                Harry watched them stand in stillness for several moments. Not many words were spoken, and he wondered if all of their fights ended the same way. He wasn’t sure how it began, but it ended with proper communication, and that was important.

                “You can keep leaving your towel on the floor.”

                “Can I get that put into our vows? Because I don’t believe you— _hey—ow!”_

                Harry sighed, smile turning into a grin when Malfoy began tickling him.

                It was hard not to fall in love with their love.

* * *

 

                “I love you.”

                Harry was used to that from the other memories, but apparently, this version of his future self was _not._ He heard a gasp and had to crane his neck to see what was happening.

                A snort left him when he caught sight of his appearance. One leg was frozen mid-air, trousers barely hanging on the other leg, his already messy hair was a disaster, indents on his face showed he was only a few minutes out of sleep, and Harry was pretty sure that was dried drool on one cheek.

                What was it Malfoy saw in him? Because this was a walking disaster.

                “Erm—what?” The last word was squeaked out, a noise Harry refused to believe actually came from him.

                “I said, I fucking love you.” Malfoy was bundled under the covers, smirk in place, but his eyes were wide and worried.

                When the trousers fell to the floor, Harry watched the way his future self launched for the bed. “I love you too.”

                With the way they began pawing at each other and marks being sucked into skin, it wasn’t hard for Harry to guess what they were about to do.

                _“Why me?”_ Why did he have to see them have sex? He risked a glance, trying to discern their age. With the steady decrease in age as the memories went on, Harry would guess that they were only a few years older than he was now.

                “Why right now?” It was whispered against Malfoy’s neck.

                “I couldn’t let you leave without telling you,” Malfoy arched when the kisses turned to bites. “You’ll be gone for a few weeks, and I wanted you to know what you mean to me.”

                Harry wanted to see if the words had his future self melting like he himself was, but he did _not_ want to see what they were doing—hearing it was bad enough.

                “What do I mean to you?”

                “ _Everything_.” Harry mouthed the predictable words as Malfoy said them. Despite that, he really was melting. Ergh.

                “Show me.”

                That was when Harry covered his ears and willed his erection to go away. Karma was more than a bitch—karma was vile and went after the innocent. 

* * *

 

                “You know, Potter,” The drawling tone indicated that Malfoy not amused and sounded much closer to the Malfoy that Harry knew. “When you asked me out on a date, I _assumed_ it would be a quiet evening around town, perhaps a nice meal at a ridiculously priced restaurant—paid by you of course—or even something abhorrently muggle. I did _not_ think we would be thrown into the middle of a hostage situation!”

                That piqued Harry’s interest. The light was dim, and it took a few seconds before he was able to adjust.

                A cell. They were locked in a dingy cell. The stone wall was old and crumbling, the shackles keeping them pinned to the wall were worn and cracked in spots.

                “What was I supposed to do? Let them take the little kid? I didn’t even know the Aurors were undercover. It happened right next to the restaurant.”

                Malfoy kicked against the wall as his eyes closed. “And you can’t see someone in need and _not_ help.”

                “Would you rather I just _let_ them take the kid?” Frustration was quickly mounting, and Harry could see that his future self was getting angry.

                “Of course not, you buffoon,” Malfoy snarled, eyes still closed but contained hands clenching. “I just—I wanted this to go well.”

                The pink flush on Malfoy’s cheeks seemed to entrance his future self just as much as it did Harry.

                “I wanted more than one date with you,” finished Malfoy, head turning to the side in an attempt to hide. 

                Harry worried he was going to become besotted the longer he had to be around Malfoy.

                “We can do that,” The raspy tone had Harry wincing. It was hard watching himself become so open and vulnerable to someone else. “I want more than one date with you too. And this? This doesn’t have to be our first date. We can have a do-over.”

                Malfoy snorted, head moving enough to see Harry. “I doubt a do-over would ever top this. No, this is our first date. We’ll just have to have a better second date.” There was hesitance in the last part of the statement, Harry could hear the question being asked.

                “I’d like that.”

                Before Malfoy could respond, the door clanged open and Harry narrowed his eyes at the stranger. There wasn’t anything about him that stood out, his appearance was average in means of aesthetic. No marks or traits that would set him apart from anyone else. It was a face that could easily be forgotten, an obvious advantage for a man who dealt in illegal acts.

                “The savior of the world, and the death eater that got off too easy. Yule came early for me. I can get quite the penny for you two.”

                “Too easy,” scoffed Malfoy. “Azkaban is too easy. Sure. Being tried by the Wizengamot and serving the punishment dolled out is too ‘easy’. As if I had control over that. Too easy.”

                Harry hummed curiously. He had been aware that a lot of people felt like Malfoy _had_ gotten off too easily. Six months in Azkaban seemed minimal compared to what the general population felt he deserved. But Malfoy was right. He wouldn't have any control over that. If people wanted to be angry at someone, then it should have been the Wizengamot.

                “Don’t talk back to me,” The man stepped closer, hand raised to either hit Malfoy, or to pull out a wand. “You are in my power now.”

                Another step forward had Malfoy shifting enough to draw Harry’s attention. He watched the satisfaction in grey eyes and had to wonder at that.

                “People lump regular criminals in with death eaters, we aren’t scum like you.”

                Harry watched his future self’s forehead wrinkle incredulously. “You kidnap children. That does, in fact, make you scum.”

                When the kidnapper turned his head to sneer at Harry, Malfoy pushed off the wall for leverage and snapped his foot up hard enough that when it connected with the man’s face with a sickening crack.

                Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched the man slump against the opposite wall, clearly unconscious.

                “Where in the world did you learn how to do that?”

                Malfoy shrugged the best he could with his arms pinned above his head. “Not my first time chained to a wall.”

                Horror overrode the sense of pride that had been bubbling inside of Harry.

                “What?” Harry nodded along to his future self’s question, silently hoping for more than just the one.

                “Don’t expect me to bare my secrets, Potter,” Malfoy sighed as he began testing the strength of the clamps around his wrists. “That doesn’t happen until at least the sixth date.”

                Harry grinned despite himself. Malfoy sure was something else.

                The sound of running had them looking toward the entrance. Their relief was palpable to Harry when an Auror burst through the cell door, wand at the ready.

                The Auror looked disappointed to see the man already taken care of. “Well, I’m not surprised, Potter. Nice work.”

                Malfoy scoffed. “You’ll be next if you assume again.”

                Contrite looked more like a grimace on the Auror’s face, but Harry was amused. Instead of leaving when they were both released, there was an intense stare off as they began rubbing their freed wrists. The Auror shifted uneasily as he glanced between them.

                “We should do this again,” Malfoy whispered.

               A confused squeak left the Auror’s mouth as his brows furrowed harshly. When Harry’s future self smiled widely, the confusion turned into horror.

                “Definitely.” There was a beat of silence before Malfoy was being pulled into a fierce kiss.

                Harry was half tempted to watch the kiss as it deepened and one of them groaned, but he was more interested in the Auror.

                “I’m just… going to reevaluate my life,” The Auror gestured behind him towards the exit. “Your statements will be needed at the Ministry… whenever you are done. Carry on.”

                It was apparent that neither of them were listening by the way another groan escaped, the sound causing the Auror to leave quickly.

                A pained noise had Malfoy kicking his heel into the kidnapper’s head once more, ensuring the man stayed down.

                Harry shook his head, fascinated by the whole mess. This was a _horrible_ first date. One that he couldn’t even fathom _wanting_ to have.

                Despite the events that led to it, Harry _knew_ he wouldn’t have wanted a different one. For whatever reason, Malfoy was it for him.

                And that was _still_ a scary thought.

* * *

 

                The sound of many voices had Harry straightening up immediately. He was back in the Ministry, surrounded by people. Briefly, he wondered if the memories were over, but then he caught sight of himself talking to Malfoy.

                It was interesting to note that this moment looked very close to the present. His robes were different, which suggested this was a different event than the one he had been at when all this started, but other than that, there weren’t many differences between this future version of himself and the way he looked right now.

                “Dance with me?”

                Malfoy cocked his head in reply, eyes sparkling. “Why? You do realize this will make it to the papers?”

                “I don’t care about the papers. I want to dance with you, get to know you.”

                Harry wished he was smoother than that, but at least the eagerness was somewhat endearing.

                “Alright.” Malfoy placed his hand inside Harry’s outstretched one. “But when we make the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , I get to say, I told you so.”

                When they took to the dance floor, many heads turned, but future Harry and Malfoy weren’t paying any attention. Harry wished that this wasn’t a memory, he wanted to be dancing with Malfoy now.

                The way Malfoy smiled, slow and hesitant was something that Harry wanted to see more of. The fear of the unknown was still there, he wasn’t entirely sure he understood why these memories were being shown to him—but they were, and Harry was alright with that.

                Harry watched them dance far longer than just a few songs. The night wore on as they danced, talked and even flirted. They was a spark between them—and Harry knew he was watching the beginning of what would turn into a beautiful relationship.

                An ache of longing filled Harry. He wanted it, wanted what they had.

                When the flare of white light filtered, Harry wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

* * *

 

                Harry looked around in confusion when he caught sight of the familiar corridor. It was still a memory. He watched himself walk down the hallway only to stop at the sight of Malfoy in the alcove he had been seeking.

                Only, instead of turning to leave like Harry had done, this version of himself cleared his throat tentatively.

                Malfoy looked up, curiosity melting into a wary unease that didn’t sit well with Harry.

                “Can I sit here?”

                When the unease disappeared, and Malfoy nodded his head, Harry let out a confused noise. What was going on?

                He listened to them talk hesitantly, neither sure of what was happening, but also not stopping the conversation or leaving.

                Harry wasn’t sure what to make of this. This wasn’t how it had gone, this wasn’t what had happened.

                It wasn’t until Harry recalled some of the memories that he began to understand. Missed connections. His past self had said he went after Malfoy due to an almost missed connection.

                As the white light flooded the hall, Harry knew it would be the last time. And deep in his gut, he knew that he had seen what he was supposed to. Now he knew what to do.

               

* * *

 

 

                When Harry looked around, and could see Malfoy staring directly at him for the first time since the memories started, he knew he was back in the present—knew that things had gone back to when he left.

                Harry ran his fingers through his hair as everything that had happened overwhelmed him. Now he understood. The first memory had been of himself. _He_ was the one to send the memories to his past self. _Why?_

Before the memories began, Harry had been about to leave. He was going to walk away and leave Malfoy alone. Was that the missed connection?

                Would one simple act of asking to sit really affect his whole life? Would Harry really have that happy ending with Malfoy off of one question?

                “Are you alright, Potter?”

                Harry had to fight a hysterical laughter from escaping. That was a good question. Was he alright?

                Did Harry _want_ that life? Was Malfoy the one he wanted to spend his life with? Harry was positive he could find happiness elsewhere as well. But did he want that? Could he really see all of this and simply walk away?

                The choice was up to him. Harry could disregard all of the memories that had been given to him and walk down a different path. He could turn away as he had been going to do, and let this all go.

                Or…

                Harry peered at Malfoy, wishing that this wasn’t all so sudden, wishing he had more time to decide.

                Concern was marring Malfoy’s features, and that had Harry’s mind cycling through all of the other times he witnessed such emotions during the memories. There was still so much to Malfoy that Harry didn’t know. He had only seen clipped memories, had only seen a glimpse of who they both were, and what they could be to each other.

                If he wanted to know more, then he would have to take a chance—he’d have to ask.

                Harry took a deep breath as he took a step closer.

                “Can I sit here?”

 

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with this idea and it never left me. Even after it's over, I just keep thinking about it. This is something that I absolutely adored. I had so much fun writing it. This story was actually something I was going to do outside of the giveaway for my friend. But then she won, and I figured, why not? 
> 
> I so hope you enjoyed all enjoyed this. Thank you for reading it, and I'll see you soon. 
> 
> -XxTheDarkLordxX


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